


Leisure Activities

by starprise_entership



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Tumblr Prompt, secret agent holosuite shenanigans again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starprise_entership/pseuds/starprise_entership
Summary: Bashir questions Garak about his dislike of his secret agent holosuite programme.





	Leisure Activities

  
”Don’t lie to me, Garak,” mutters Bashir, the breath in his chest hitching as Garak backs him up against the wall of the holographic mansion, “I just know that deep down, you do like at least something about this programme, even though you’ve expressed your disdain for it in the past.”

Garak reaches for Bashir’s lapels, and slides his fingers upwards along the seams, evidently admiring his own work. “Your secret agent programme,” begins Garak, “is unbelievably naive, over-glamorized and hardly does the real field of espionage any justice.” He pauses, giving a small nod as he continues. “What makes coming into the holosuite today worthwhile, though, is really how dashing you look in that suit of yours, Agent Bashir.”

“The suit’s only one of your fine creations.” remarks Bashir, watching as Garak’s hands drift from the lapels and he focuses his attention on the bow tie that sits at his throat instead.

“May I?” initiates Garak, his fingers already prying into the knot at the centre of the accessory.

“Go right ahead,” agrees Bashir, stealing a kiss from Garak’s lips and pulling back. He had expected Garak to be more hungry, more driven, but instead he undoes the tie with caution, almost coming off as hesitant save for the determined look in his eyes. With the tie now unravelled, he then relieves Bashir of his suit jacket, lifting the fabric enough to allow Bashir to shrug the jacket off.

Gravity takes its course and the jacket slides downwards, trapped between Bashir’s heels and the wall. “You’re really taking your chances here,” reminds Bashir, his expression coy. “You told me that one time if I ever got as much as a spot of tea on my suit, you’d charge me extra for ruining your precious creation. I wouldn’t be too surprised, really, if the jacket got torn to shreds due to me grinding the heels of my shoes into it!”

“Then, my dear,” Garak whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against the shell of Bashir’s ear, “you’d better stay absolutely still. You’re capable of that, aren’t you?”

“I’m sure you’ll do all sorts of things to me that will diminish my ability to stay still. This isn’t fair at all!”

“Life isn’t ever fair, don’t you think?” Garak kisses a trail down the side of his jaw, delighted to receive the shortest little gasp he’s ever heard in response.

Bashir’s hands are now on Garak’s hips, anchoring him when he feels the need to squirm or jump. “Now, you’re just not making things easy for me!”

“When did I ever find the need to make things easy for you? After all, you’re a man who loves a challenge. Why else would you come all the way out here to Deep Space Nine?”

“Oh, I suppose you’re right _there– ah!_ Watch it, that’s sensitive!”

“A weakness I can possibly exploit in our future encounters, I presume?”

“Yes.” Bashir gasps, shivering again as Garak’s hands roam down across the front of his shirt, smoothing out the crisp fabric against his torso. Garak is really taking his time today, lingering at the same part of his body for some while before moving on to the next. “That. Just do that again _and–“_

Garak gives a small hum of approval as Bashir lets another whimpering cry escape his lips. Smugly, he lets his hands trail lower and lower, caressing Bashir’s sides, until he reaches the belt. He amusedly fiddles with the metal buckle that sits in the centre, slipping a finger into the loop of the belt with his right hand.

“Replicated leather, but I hope it’s close enough to satisfy your tastes.” Pressing his thumb against the surface, he pinches the strip of leather between his thumb and forefinger and slides his hand back and forth along the belt. Then, getting an idea, he brings his right hand away from the belt and moves even lower, leaving a ghost of a squeeze on Bashir’s thigh, so light that Bashir hardly even reacts. Confidently, he reaches for the inside of his thigh and runs his thumb upwards along the inseam–

–stopping just short of where Bashir would’ve liked his hand to be.

Bashir looks up to find Garak staring back at him, immensely enjoying the situation he’s been put in. He swallows, letting Garak see the bob in his throat rise and then fall; should he request– _no, plead with_ –Garak to just be a bit more merciful for once? Should he drop Garak a subtle hint that he’s dragged it long enough what he really wants, right now, is for Garak to cross that boundary and touch him where he so desperately needs it?

Every thought sends blushing waves of desire washing over him, and as he recollects his thoughts all he can do is stand still and wait.

Finally, Garak clears his throat, saving Bashir any need for a verbal response. “I’ve observed that your trousers are rather tight-fitting, and that you seem to be experiencing some degree of discomfort. With your permission, could I relieve you of them and examine the issue?”

Bashir hastily licks his lips. “That would be very much appreciated, though I’m almost absolutely certain the problem does not lie in your tailoring skills.”

“Oh, we’ll see,” articulates Garak, already dropping to his knees to allow himself easier access to the belt buckle.


End file.
